


Good Enough

by aelora



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Seblaine is Endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-24 03:04:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelora/pseuds/aelora
Summary: "It was Sebastian, wasn't it?""...Yes."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A special thank you to **Anis** and **Dee** for taking it upon themselves to beta for a terrified first-time Seblainer.
> 
> This story deals with one of the more controversial plots 'Glee' decided to unleash on us, Blaine cheating on Kurt. As a Blaine fan and Klainer (at the time), it was particularly difficult for me to accept. Eventually, I came to understanding Blaine's mental and emotional processes, and like the horrible person I am, I've gone and dragged poor Sebastian into it. I only hope I manage to handle it with the sensitivity it deserves here.

**September 2012  
** **McKinley High  
** **Lima, Ohio**

  
  
_The story goes like this:_

_Boy meets boy of his dreams. Boy falls in love with boy of his dreams. Boy transfers schools to be with boy of his dreams. Dream boy moves to New York. Boy is left behind in Ohio. Boy shouldn’t have encouraged him to go. Boy should’ve been able to go with him. Boy doesn’t like the distance. Boy cries himself to sleep at night._

Okay, Blaine doesn’t actually cry himself to sleep at night. He talks to Kurt just before bed and tends to sleep with a smile on his face. It’s the walking through the doors at McKinley in the morning, realizing Kurt’s not there; that’s when it hurts.

Blaine scribbles out his writing and flips the page so that no one too nosey for their own good ( _Tina_ ) can read it, and tries to focus on the math problem Mrs. Kestler is writing on the board. Normally he enjoys Calculus, but today it’s difficult to concentrate, the equations all running together, and it’s not long before his eyes drift to the screen of his phone again, which remains depressingly dark.

He’s texted Kurt three times since lunch, filling him in on various tidbits of McKinley school gossip ( _Puck’s half-brother is the guy who threw the tantrum during try-outs; Brittany got kicked off the Cheerios due to her GPA; there’s some weird rumor going around that Figgins likes to be milked like a cow--IDEK!_ ) but hasn’t heard anything back.

“Blaine, can you explain what’s going on in the third term?”

Looking up quickly at the sound of his name, eyes wide and cheeks flushing, Blaine ignores Tina’s giggles beside him at being caught daydreaming, and centers his attention on the board, searching for the term to which Mrs. Kestler had referred. Not for the first time, he’s actually glad his father is a mathematics professor.

“The exponent was a one and so by subtracting one from the original exponent you get a new exponent of zero…?”

“That is correct. Moving on to the fourth term---”

“Nice save,” Tina whispers, leaning close. “Would kind of suck to drop your 4.0 senior year because you’re texting your boyfriend.”

“No fear of that, T.” Blaine reaches under the table with his pencil, poking her in the side, and she barely keeps her surprised squeak quiet as she settles back in her chair and gives him a quick glare.

After all, it’s not as if his boyfriend is texting back.

*********************

  
The rest of the afternoon passes mostly without incident until Artie catches him before last period. They’ve been having the same debate for the last two days. Artie was hoping to approach Mr. Schuester with a suggestion of _Guys and Dolls_ for the school musical that year. Blaine thinks Artie is just nostalgic for the days when the glee club had started, and their famed attempt at “Sit Down You’re Rocking the Boat”.

“---I’m just saying that the role of Nathan seems to comfortably fit my range more than Sam’s. He’d make a far better Sky.”

“As director of this potential production, I’m going to have to politely disagree with that statement.”

Artie rolls up next to Blaine, the right wheel of his chair bumping against the lockers with a slight clang. He pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with an index finger. “Forgive me for saying so, but I think you’re confusing the movie production with the stage production. Your voice was made for ‘My Time of Day’. Sam isn’t up to the task of playing Sky Masterson at this point in time. You,” Artie pauses and squints up at Blaine as if choosing his words carefully, “exude a metrosexual charm the same way that Sky should. Sam, on the other hand, while I acknowledge might be built like a model for cheesy romance novel covers, has that adorably clueless vibe about him. Which is perfect for Nathan—if for no other reason than to explain why Adelaide didn’t just dump his ass years ago.”

Blaine laughs at that as he deposits two textbooks from his messenger bag into his locker.

“If Kurt was here, he’d say the same, you know.”

Blaine’s laughter abruptly ends as his gaze flickers to the photos decorating the inside of his locker. His eyes linger over the one of Kurt in his cap and gown, arms wrapped tightly around Blaine’s shoulder, lips pressed to his cheek in a happy kiss while Blaine laughs. Wincing slightly, he slams the door shut, shifting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and spins on his heel.

“Yes, well, he _isn’t_ **_here_ ** , is he?”

Artie rolls up beside Blaine as they make their way down the mostly-empty hallway. “Oh, _I_ see.”

At the tone of Artie’s voice, Blaine glances down at him with a frown. “What?”

“I thought your attitude all day seemed a little weird.” Artie has to stop a moment as two cheerleaders pass by without giving him much room. “Tina and I talked about it in English. You were snappy during lunch, and that’s totally _not_ you—”

“I can be snappy,” Blaine protests.

“And then there’s this whole musical thing with you insisting on only being Nathan. Also, totally _not_ you. Other than just the role, I mean.” Artie rolls in front of Blaine and stops, blocking his path. “Did something happen with Kurt?”

_Did something happen with Kurt_? Blaine feels like he’s been waiting to hear that question for… well, from the moment Kurt had said his dream was to go to New York for college, to get out of Ohio, and that moment is well past a year now, and the question is just as scary to hear as it has been to contemplate.

Blaine takes a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he rushes out, side-stepping Artie’s wheelchair and continuing down the hall. When Artie is once more beside him, Blaine tells him, “It’s just… everything seemed fine when he first left for New York. And now, his texts seem less frequent. Our conversations are shorter..”

“I’m sure he’s just busy—.”

Blaine’s mouth tightens for a moment. “I _know_ that. Of course, he’s busy. It’s just---.”

He doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say, those hidden fears and insecurities that he’s tucked away so tightly since the previous spring. For a few weeks, Blaine had closed himself off to Kurt, forced himself to get used to being alone, and it had ended up backfiring badly. In the end, when Blaine had confessed his fears, Kurt had promised Blaine wouldn’t be alone.

“You know, you’re right. I’m sure everything’s fine.”

“I’m sure it is.”

They continue on in silence, though Blaine can tell Artie is waiting for him to continue. With a sigh, he adds, “We didn’t have a fight or anything. And like, today I know he’s busy, I just…. I have an active imagination, I guess.”

Artie snorts beside him. “This I know. But seriously, what can you worry about when it comes to Kurt? The two of you are so married I keep wondering when you’re going to hyphenate your names. One day we’ll be sitting in class and Mrs. Brisby will call out ‘Blaine Hummel-Anderson’, and I’ll be all, _knew_ it!”

“Anderson-Hummel,” Blaine corrects quietly, and at Artie’s expression, he adds, “Kurt’s choice, actually.”

Artie shakes his head. “See? Nothing to worry about. I’m headed off to study hall. See you in glee.”

Blaine sighs again and watches as Artie rolls off down the hall.

*********************

  
It isn’t supposed to be like this. Blaine had been fine with Kurt going off to New York for college, fine with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be joining him for another year. Fine because it isn’t as if New York is on the other side of the country—they’d see one another plenty throughout the school year. And then, once graduation hits, they’ll begin their new life together, in New York City, at NYADA, and they’ll never have to worry about separation again.

Except, it’s harder than Blaine expected. Kurt’s been such an integral part of his life over the last two years, and even though they’ve talked daily since Kurt left Lima two weeks earlier, it just isn’t the same. Blaine still finds himself turning to Kurt’s empty chair in the choir room, or waits for some comment about the cheeseburger and plate full of fries he has at lunch and it never comes. It’s just… he misses Kurt. Misses Kurt more than he thought possible.

Blaine has always imagined his senior year as something that would be unforgettable, a time period that he would look back on fondly for the rest of his life. If the first couple of weeks are anything to go by, he’s fairly certain the reality won’t live up to the fantasy. He’s been compiling a mental list of all the reasons his senior year has the potential to suck. So far, he’s had to fight for the position of lead soloist and subsequently earning the spot of pariah in the choir room, send his boyfriend off to New York without him, and slowly begin to realize that he doesn’t really have that many friends at McKinley. Or at all.

When he’d transferred to McKinley, Kurt’s friends had become his friends by default. Rachel, Mercedes, Mike, even Finn with how much time Blaine spent at the Hudson-Hummel household. All seniors, all graduated. Initially, Blaine had stayed in touch with his friends among the Warblers, but then Sebastian Smythe became captain of Dalton’s show choir, declared war on New Directions, Blaine had ended up getting eye surgery due to a slushie in the face, and he hasn’t spoken to any of the Warblers since.

He got to know Tina through Mike, but ever since the new school year started, she’s been a little difficult to get along with. Blaine still isn’t certain why she needs a freshman assistant to follow her around. And he likes Artie well enough, but beyond the occasional video game challenge and play discussions, they’ve never really clicked. Brittany’s… well, Brittany. Blaine thinks she’s sweet, but he’s still a little miffed about the hair gel ban she imposed during prom last year. Lastly, there’s Sam, and Blaine knows he’s at fault for them never really having gotten close after he took his anger out on the other boy for how the glee kids were treating him last year. He still can’t imagine what they could possibly have in common, though.

What he can’t tell anyone, because none of them would understand, is that he misses Dalton as much as he did when he first transferred, even with the stolen set list and slushie incident. Last year, his feelings had made sense. After all, he hadn’t been entirely welcomed at McKinley, particularly by the glee club members, and spent two-thirds of their competitions swaying in the background. It had been a major adjustment after leaving a school where everyone had liked him, where his glee club had fought over the chance to choose what solos he got to sing. But Blaine had done his best to adapt, to accept that McKinley was different, that he was surrounded by talented people, and besides, he had Kurt. In the end, nothing else had really mattered.

“Oh! Blaine. Just the student I was hoping to see.”

Pausing in the packed hallway and pulling himself from his internal pity party---Blaine thinks he’s allowed the occasional party until he gets used to Kurt being gone---he flashes a wary but welcoming smile at McKinley’s resident guidance counselor. “You needed to speak to me, Ms. Pillsbury?”

“Actually, yes.” She smiles her sweet smile at him, and continues walking down the hall, a stack of brochures clutched in her arms. “I thought you would like to set up a time to come by and discuss your college plans. Go through some of the brochures I have.”

Blaine’s been in Ms. Pillsbury’s office precisely once, and he was dragged there by Kurt during his attempt to distance himself last spring, and even though the session worked out, he still isn’t entirely certain she was qualified to talk to students about… well, anything really. But he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings, either.

“That’s really nice of you, ma'am, but I already know where I’m going to go---NYADA.”

“Oh---oh, of course. I know that. I just---” She looks a little hesitant about what she wants to say before nervously adding, “It’s just, Kurt’s attempt didn’t really work out, nor Rachel’s at first, and I just thought maybe you might want to have a back up? I mean, not that I think you won’t get in. Of course you will. But, ‘Better to be safe than sorry’ is my motto.”

“Right… Thanks, Ms. Pillsbury. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Great! Wonderful. Well, have a good day, Blaine!”

“You, too.”

Great. Now he can add crippling anxiety about not getting into NYADA to his list.

*********************

  
The Lima Bean isn’t what it used to be. It’s hard sitting there, trying to concentrate on Calculus while all around him are reminders that Kurt is over six hundred miles away, and here Blaine sits at one of their regular tables, by himself. The self-pity is getting pathetic, and he doesn’t like it, but Blaine honestly didn’t think it would be this hard.

No, that isn’t right. Months ago he’d had the sneaking suspicion that losing Kurt to New York would change everything. But Kurt had promised it would be okay, and then Kurt hadn’t made it into NYADA, and they had all summer together. A summer spent at one another’s side daily, going on family vacations together, weekends at the lake with their friends, nights when parents were out curled up in each other’s arms. Even when school had started, Kurt had still been there, hanging around the McKinley halls, helping New Directions recruit. It seemed as if nothing had changed, and Blaine felt confident sending Kurt off to New York to follow his dreams.

Blaine tells himself not to text Kurt with every single thought that comes to mind, but that isn’t easy either. He’s so used to just glancing over to his side, making a comment, asking a question, and Kurt’s right there to either flash him a smile or arch an eyebrow in response. And at first, Blaine had given into the impulse to text Kurt whenever he had the need to say something---a ‘Good morning’ when he woke up, little tidbits throughout the day at school, ‘Good night’ and ‘I love you’ after Skyping, before bed. Kurt always responded, quickly, cheerily, his own unique flare to the conversation, and Blaine knew it would all work out.

Except, just as he explained to Artie, Kurt has taken longer to respond recently, with shorter texts, sometimes going hours before Blaine’s phone lights up. He tells himself it’s to be expected. Kurt is settling into New York, moving into a new place with Rachel, trying to get into NYADA, looking for work. Blaine knows he can’t expect a response every moment of every day, but that knowledge doesn’t help the loneliness. It doesn’t chase away the deep-rooted insecurity that Kurt may find distractions far more interesting than some high school senior pining away for him back in Ohio.

“Long time no see.”

Pulled from his musings, Blaine blinks up at the familiar voice, the surprise likely more than evident on his face as he stares back at one of the last people he had expected to see. “Sebastian. Hi.”

A momentary silence hangs between them after the greeting, leaving Blaine to wonder if Sebastian is having as much difficulty as he is trying to come up with something to say.

The last they’d seen of one another had been at Regionals, when Blaine had crossed the stage to congratulate his friends on their second place position, an attempt to bridge the gap that had grown between them after everything that had happened. After that, he’d put Sebastian from his mind, having deleted him from his contacts and Skype and Facebook all right after the Slushie incident. There’d been no contact since, a fact Blaine knows had pleased Kurt, but had actually left him a little sad at the thought of losing someone he once considered a friend.

Sebastian is the first to break the silence. “Mind if I sit?”

Blaine shakes his head in response, closing his Calculus book and pushing it to the side to give Sebastian room for his coffee. “Haven’t seen you in here in awhile.”

“Yeah, well.” The other boy glances away for a moment, jaw tensing as if he’s struggling to say something before finally returning his gaze to Blaine’s. “Thought it’d be better if I stayed away.”

It’s the perfect opening for Blaine to say something like _I forgave you for all of that months ago_ or _I don’t recall you asking my opinion on that decision_. But he doesn’t. He just sits there, wondering what caused Sebastian to decide now was the time to come back, and whether or not he believed he would run into Blaine that particular day.

“So… how’re things?”

It’s such an open-ended question that Blaine isn’t entirely certain how to respond. It’s on the tip of his tongue to be honest, to tell Sebastian that so far his senior year sucks, he hates that he encouraged Kurt to go to New York without him, he doesn’t feel like any of the people left in New Directions are truly his friends, and god, but he misses that blazer. But he censors himself before he can, forcing a smile and shrugging. “You know, good. Senior year and all. You?”

Sebastian nods. “Same.”

They’re both lying; Blaine can see it clear as the red piping lining the lapel of Sebastian’s blazer. It makes his stomach churn because in actuality, there’s a lot he wants to say to Sebastian, things he couldn’t say back in March at the Lima Bean with Kurt, Santana and Brittany present. He knows deep down he’s still hurt by what Sebastian did, still confused as to how something he thought was friendship became so twisted. Blaine has never been a fan of small talk, and he’s always struggled with communicating deeper emotions of hurt and betrayal.

And it’s not as if he can suddenly break out into song right there in the Lima Bean---maybe something like _Borderline_ by Madonna or _Winner Takes It All_ by ABBA---to communicate how he felt about the dissolution of their friendship. Well, he supposes he _could_ break out into song, but then he’d likely be asked to never patronize the coffee shop again.

“You know what? I should probably go,” Sebastian states, moving to stand.

“No, wait.”

Blaine remembers the nervousness in Sebastian’s voice when he’d apologized about his eye, how uncharacteristic it had seemed, and how angry he’d still felt about everything. The blatant disregard for Kurt’s feelings when they’d all gone to Dalton, and Sebastian had sang directly to Blaine, as if he’d had that right. But the Warbler had apologized, took that first step in trying to make amends, and Blaine can’t just ignore that.

Sebastian is staring at him, his expression a cross between expectant and wary, and Blaine nods toward the seat he just vacated. “I mean, it’s been awhile, since we’ve talked. I’d really like to catch up.”

Releasing a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding, Blaine flashes a tentative smile at Sebastian as he retakes the seat across from him. Another brief silence follows before they both try to speak:

“Look, Blaine---”

“Sebastian, I---”

They smile and Sebastian waves a hand toward Blaine. “Home court advantage. You first.”

Blaine’s glad to go first because he just wants the tension between them to end. He’s never been able to handle feeling uncomfortable around others, but it’s worse when it’s someone he’s called a friend. “I just want you to know, I forgave you. For what happened. For my eye---”

“I never meant to hurt you, Blaine,” Sebastian interrupts, and the tone of his voice reminds Blaine of that other day in the Lima Bean, when they were all still reeling from the news about Karofsky. It had been a tone Blaine had never really heard from Sebastian before---sincerity. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I never expected you to throw yourself in the way like that. Though, I guess I should have.”

“Why the rock salt, then?”

It’s always seemed like an odd choice to Blaine.

“It would have ruined Kurt’s outfit. Salt and the things he wears don’t mix.” Sebastian has the sense to look abashed. “Like I said, lame prank.”

Blaine has to bite his tongue to keep from asking _Are you twelve_? He picks up his coffee and takes a sip instead, wincing because it’s gone tepid. While it’s somewhat mollifying to know Sebastian had never intended on hurting anyone, Blaine still has questions. Lots of questions. But that moment doesn’t seem like the right time to broach them.

“Well.” He sets his coffee down and offers Sebastian a smile. “What do you say we start over? Wipe the slate clean? Be friends again. You know, like before the setlist stealing, trying to turn my friends against me, and singing inappropriate songs in front of my boyfriend?”

Okay, maybe Blaine isn’t entirely ready to let it all go.

Thankfully, Sebastian just laughs softly, nodding as he glances away for a quick moment, before his gaze finally returns to Blaine’s. “When you put it like that, I’ll admit I’m surprised you even _want_ to be friends again.”

“It wasn’t all that bad,” Blaine admits, shrugging. “I mean, before you went all psycho Warbler on me. Actually, I kind of really enjoyed our chats.”

It’s the first time Blaine finds himself really admitting that he’s missed Sebastian’s friendship. Sure, the other boy had left him speechless more often than not, and half of what came out of his mouth Blaine had never been certain he entirely believed (of course, Blaine had spent his entire life dealing with the same from his brother), but talking to Sebastian had always been rather easy. Until the Regionals setlist occurrence, Blaine had never felt the need to censor or overthink what he said to Sebastian. Even when Blaine occasionally called him out on his bullshit, Sebastian would just laugh and roll with it.

“So did I.” Sebastian holds his hand out across the table. “Friends?”

Smiling, Blaine reaches out to take it, ignoring the distantly familiar tingle of excitement that moves through him at the touch of Sebastian’s hand against his own. “Friends.”

*********************

  
Blaine’s feeling better than he had most of the afternoon by the time he gets home. His chat with Sebastian had been nice. They hadn’t talked for too long after deciding to be friends again---he’d told Sebastian about Kurt being in New York with Rachel and how different New Directions felt this year, and Sebastian had shared with him that the Warblers were currently under review by the administration. Blaine hadn’t asked him to elaborate, figuring that most of it had to do with everything that had happened spring semester. Even though he no longer wants to see Sebastian and his old teammates punished for their actions, Blaine’s pleased to know someone was paying attention.

Once he slips off his shoes in the entryway and flips through the mail to glance at the college brochures addressed to him, Blaine’s surprised to find his mother in the kitchen, refrigerator door open, staring inside.

“I thought you were gone until tomorrow,” he says, setting his bag down on the table before grabbing a glass from the cupboard for his usual glass of milk. The cookie jar is depressingly empty, so he just nurses the milk quietly as he watches his mother sigh and close the refrigerator door.

“I was but the conference was cancelled when a fire broke out in the main meeting hall—“

“Are you alright?”

Pam waves a hand as she opens the pantry and peers into it. “I was in the kitchen at the time, discussing the six hundred lunches that had been prepared with the catering staff. They ended up moving the meeting over to the Hilton. I guarantee at least one person will be losing their job over this—that conference was worth a lot of money.”

“They can’t like, move back to the Marriott tomorrow or something? Or was the damage really bad?”

“The only thing damaged was a set of curtains.” His mother pulls out a boxed dinner of chicken and rice, frowns at it, and sets it back in the pantry. “Unfortunately, there’s water damage and it smells awful. I tried talking the client into postponing the conference until next week but they wouldn’t budge. The Hilton was only too willing to oblige. The client promised they’d come back to us next year—nothing looks good for dinner. Would you be terribly upset if I ordered pizza?”

“Oh, terribly. Mom, you know how I feel about pizza. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. Worst parenting ever, really. You should be ashamed,” Blaine deadpans as he moves over to the sink to wash his empty glass out.

Pam sighs dramatically as she pulls her cell phone from her purse. “I thought as much. Don’t tell your father. He’ll divorce me.”

Blaine laughs, stepping over to place a kiss to her cheek. “Extra pepperoni and extra cheese, white sauce, pan crust—“

“Green peppers?”

“Don’t press your luck, Toots,” he says in a tone reminiscent of James Cagney, grinning as his mom rolls her eyes at him.

“Half the pizza, then,” she calls after him as Blaine grabs his bag and heads out of the kitchen toward the stairs.

“As long as they don’t touch my side—tell them not to let those things touch my side of the pizza,” Blaine yells back halfway up the steps, past the dozens of family photos lining the staircase wall, a veritable timeline of the Anderson brothers. From impromptu performances at neighborhood functions to competitions, school photos including Cooper’s high school graduation where he’s holding a seven-year-old Blaine in his arms, Cooper’s too-big cap falling over his eyes. The photos even include two of Cooper’s headshots, which are impossible for Blaine to pass without rolling his eyes. There’s also one halfway up of Blaine poised in fencing garb that his mother took two years ago at a tournament; three more near the top of Blaine standing beside or sitting on Blackjack, his polo pony at Dalton.

Setting his messenger bag down in his chair, Blaine glances through the playlists on his iPod, looking for something to both get him through his homework and keep his mind off of Kurt for the next couple of hours before finally deciding on a mix of his favorite female artists. He sits on his bed and opens his laptop, immediately logging into Skype, on the off-chance that Kurt might be there even though it’s only five-thirty and their Skype dates don’t start until seven.

Forty-five minutes later, the paltry bit of homework he had left is done; Blaine has a half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand as he jumps on his bed, belting out Kate Nash. “ _I just want your kiss boy, kiss boy, kiss boy—I just want your kiss_!” He hops to the edge of the mattress along to the music as he takes another bite of his pizza, quickly swallowing as he bounces back to the center and continues along with her, “ _I just want your kiss boy, kiss boy, kiss boy—I just want your_ kiss!

“ _The lights are on and someone’s home, but I’m not sure if they’re alone. There’s someone else inside my head_ — _"_

“Blaine!”

Kate Nash continues on without him as Blaine stares back guiltily at his mother, who’s leaning against the doorway, pizza box in one hand, the other reached out, leveling a finger down to the floor. Blinking, Blaine flashes an apologetic smile as he jumps off the bed and quickly sits down like maybe he could convince her he’s been there all along.

“Sorry, Mom.”

Shaking her head, Pam walks over, holding the box out to him. “I thought maybe you’d want the last few slices since I didn’t order the peppers.” She smiles as he nods, taking it from her hands to set it on his lap and flip the lid open. _Three slices left! Score_!

“Is your homework done?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So you thought you’d reward yourself by jumping on furniture?” She asks, amusement coloring her tone as she moves to grab a pair of his shoes from the floor and carry them to his closet. “I swear, Blaine Anderson, sometimes I think a circus performer impregnated me instead of your father.”

“Oh, god, Mom!” Blaine drops his slice of pizza to cover his ears in horror. “Can you just not put those images in my head? Like, _ever_?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not like it was all that exciting or naughty or anything. It was just your father—“

“ _Mom_!” Blaine squeaks and falls back on his bed, covering his face with the pizza box, which he bangs against his forehead repeatedly in the hopes of expelling all thoughts of his parents engaged in sex.

“What? Twice I’ve walked in to find your boyfriend with his tongue down your throat,” his mother comments, patting his knee as she returns next to him, lifting the box from his hands to place it on his desk. “I think you’re due for a little payback.”

Blaine leans up on his elbows, scrunching his face as he looks at her. “Right, because that time over the summer when you asked Kurt if we were being careful and using condoms wasn’t enough.”

Pam grins as she leans over to press a kiss to his forehead. “A mother can’t want her boy to be safe?”

“Not at the expense of his dignity, nno," Blaine says emphatically.

“Speaking of,” she glances toward his laptop, “it’s almost time for your nightly chat, isn’t it?”

Sighing, Blaine nods and follows her gaze, trying not to imagine Kurt skipping out all-together. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You guess? Did Kurt have to cancel?”

Blaine shrugs as he sits up fully. “I don’t know. I just haven’t heard from him all day.”

Pam is silent for a long moment before her hand rests against his shoulder and she gives it a light squeeze. “I’m sure he’s just been busy, hon. And Rachel. You did say they’re staying together, right? That girl’s a handful. I’m sure living with her is a daily three-ring circus. I wouldn’t worry too much.” She tucks a stray curl behind his ear. “There’s ice cream downstairs later if you want some. It’s strawberry. I successfully hid it from your father in the back of the freezer.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Blaine watches silently as she leaves the room before he wriggles back on his bed to lean against the headboard, picking up another slice of pizza as he stares at the screen of his laptop besides him. He hums along with Avril Lavigne and waits for seven o’clock.

*********************

  
Blaine is staring at the time on his laptop as it hits seven o’clock. His eyes flicker to his address book on Skype, but Kurt isn’t online yet. He takes a breath, trying not to let his heart fall from his chest, and reaches out for another piece of pizza only to realize the box is empty. Sighing, he tosses it to the floor and glances at the clock again. Seven oh one. And back to the list. Still no Kurt.

Picking up his pencil, Blaine begins tapping in rhythm to P!nk’s “Get the Party Started” against his leg, trying not to watch the clock, and failing miserably.

It isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s only been half a day since he’s heard from Kurt, and already his mind is coming up with imagined scenarios of his heart breaking. Blaine feels ridiculous for being so needy, for not believing in the best when it came to his boyfriend. He forced himself to take a breath, relax, trust in the fact that if Kurt couldn’t make it for their Skype session, he would have called or sent a message. _Kurt loves you, dumbass_ , he thinks. _Distance isn’t going to change that. And you love him. Nothing else matters_. Still, Blaine finds himself reaching for his phone on his nightstand. Just as he’s about to hit dial, he spies Kurt’s name light up on the screen, and his smile is beaming as he connects to see his boyfriend’s beautiful face appear before him.

“Kurt!” Blaine’s sure his voice cracks just a little, and he doesn’t care. “Hi, baby.“

“Hi! I’m _so_ sorry, Blaine. Today has been beyond busy and then when I got to the coffee shop, there was a huge line---” He moves his laptop to show Blaine how busy it is around him. “The wifi at the hotel is awful, but I have great news! Rachel and I found a place to live!”

“Oh, wow---that is great news! Tell me about it! Where is it? Is it everything you imagined? I bet it can’t be cheap.”

Kurt laughs, and it’s one of Blaine’s favorite sounds in the world. “Well, it’s maybe not exactly what I imagined when living in New York.”

He goes on to explain in detail the loft he and Rachel discovered out in Bushwick, how much work needs to be done to it, but it’s far more affordable than anything they might have found in Manhattan. Blaine tries not to worry when he mentions the neighborhood being kind of sketchy; Kurt can take care of himself. Besides, it’s wonderful to see how excited and happy his boyfriend is, like he’s reawakening after becoming so stifled in Lima the last couple of months. And ultimately, this is why Blaine had insisted that Kurt go on to New York without him. Why he knew the boy he loved would be so much happier once he took that first step toward really making his dreams come true. It still hurts, seeing him through a screen instead of face to face. Blaine wants to touch him, hold his hand, kiss him, lose himself in the scent of his boyfriend. For now though, he takes comfort in the sight of Kurt’s smile.

“So what is this about that kid with the attitude being Puck’s brother?” Kurt finally asks after describing the little Italian restaurant he and Rachel had found that evening. “I should have guessed.”

Blaine grins. “Yeah. The news just got out this morning. Apparently they’re half brothers? Sam said he doesn’t think Puck has any idea. Mr. Schue seems to be getting involved, though. I don’t know. The rest of us are kind of focused on Brittany at the moment.”

“I can’t believe Sue kicked her off the Cheerios. Wait, yes I can. Oh! I forgot to tell you---I saw an ad for an internship with Vogue and I’m going to apply. I mean, the chances of getting an interview are probably non-existent but I figure if I send along some photos of my own ensembles, it might up my chances a little bit? I don’t know. I might as well try.”

“They’d be insane not to hire you, Kurt. You know that,” Blaine assures him confidently. “Anna could use some of your fashion insight.”

Kurt laughs and shakes his head. “I think you’re biased.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Smiling, Kurt leans his chin on his hand and then becomes animated once more as he begins telling Blaine about how Rachel jumped out in front of a cab that morning, screaming at the driver to stop after four had passed them by. Blaine laughs, immediately able to picture the scene, and thinks back to what his mom had said about how living with Rachel would have to be a handful. Honestly, he couldn’t wait to find out. It’s easy to imagine living with her and Kurt in a fashionable but affordable loft, attending NYADA together, singing together, conquering New York together. They’d each make it to Broadway, support one another, maybe even star in a show or two together. Their entire future just laid out in front of them.

Of course, Blaine has to graduate high school, first.

“I miss you,” he interjects when Kurt takes a breath between stories about life in New York.

His boyfriend flashes him a somewhat sad smile, and leans in closer to the screen. “Aww I miss you, too. In fact, I think we need to make plans for your first trip out here! After all, Rachel and I have a place now, even though it’s going to take us a couple of weeks to make it livable.”

“No guarantees that when I come to visit I’ll ever want to leave.”

“You won’t hear a complaint from me.”

Blaine has savings put aside that he knows he can use for the ticket, and hopefully his parents will be perfectly alright with it. He’s talked to them before about it, how once Kurt was in New York he planned on visiting until he was able to join him there. Blaine wouldn’t characterize either of their responses as overly enthusiastic but they hadn’t said no either. Eventually, he and Kurt narrow his visit down to the third weekend in October, which seems like forever even though it’s only a little over five weeks. But Kurt wants to have the loft in perfect order before Blaine gets there, and Blaine knows if he tries to purchase a ticket too close to the travel date, it’ll wipe out most of his savings. It seems far away, but at least he has something to look forward to now.

“So aside from glee club gossip, what else has been going on in your life now that I’m not around to keep things exciting?”

Laughing at Kurt’s comment, which is sadly all too true, Blaine finds himself shaking his head and shrugging lightly. “Nothing, actually. Artie and I are working on a song together for Britney 2.0 week---”

“Wait. Glee club is doing Britney again? Is Schuester just going to rehash all of his old ideas now that most of us have graduated?”

“Maybe?” Blaine grins. “No, this is actually to help Brittany out, I think.”

“Well, have someone record your performance. I wanna see it.”

“Promise.”

Kurt starts reminiscing about glee club, and some of the theme weeks they’d had throughout the years. Blaine smiles as he listens, though he finds himself wondering why he didn’t tell Kurt everything… why he doesn’t bother mentioning that he saw Sebastian at the Lima Bean that day as their conversation continues? Why he doesn’t tell Kurt that he’s made the decision to be friends again with the boy who had almost blinded him last year? The same boy he knows Kurt never wanted him speaking to in the first place.

_I’ll tell him later_ , Blaine thinks, _when I’m certain whether this whole friendship thing with Sebastian is going to work out or not._ Maybe by the time he goes to visit Kurt in New York. It’ll be easier to talk about it in person anyway, of that much Blaine is certain.

“Are we still on for _Treme_ tomorrow?” Blaine asks, putting his meeting with Sebastian earlier that day from his mind.

“Of course. Did you think I would miss it? Wifi in the hotel may be a little sketchy but I’ll make it work. Or complain to management.”

The two hours they set aside for one another passes quickly. Before Blaine knows it, Kurt is yawning and apologizing, saying he needs to head back to the hotel to get some sleep. Early in the morning he’s going to head over to the loft to get started on decorating, and wants to have some things done before Rachel joins him after class. Blaine is reluctant to let him go, but knows they’ll have tomorrow night, and every night after, and in little over a month, they’ll be face to face. For now, it has to be enough.

It takes them a few minutes to say goodbye; blowing kisses and saying I love you. By the time Blaine logs off, he feels a little better. Skype isn’t the same as talking in person, but for now it’s all that they have. Blaine may not get to touch Kurt, or have Kurt touch him, but at least he gets to see him, and their plans for their future together always make his heart feel a little lighter. Knowing that Kurt wants him there, that their futures remained intertwined, it makes the months ahead until graduation not seem quite as lonely as they could be.

*********************

  
A few hours later, and Blaine is almost asleep when his phone vibrates with a text on the surface of his nightstand. Wondering if Kurt has something else to share, he reaches out and swipes the screen, squinting at the bright light in the darkness. There’s a phone number with no contact info, but the number looks vaguely familiar.

**[614-212-7551]  
** **Hey, Killer. Hope I didn’t wake you.**

Blaine smiles because honestly, he’s missed that---that stupid nickname that’s never made any sense to him. It seems ridiculous, like calling a baby bunny a terror or something, but secretly he likes it. Secretly, it’s always made Blaine feel different from the guy he sees in the mirror. The bashful schoolboy persona Sebastian once accused him of portraying.

**_Thankfully not. I need my beauty sleep._ **

While he waits, Blaine adds Sebastian’s number back into his contacts. Minutes pass, and Blaine begins to feel his eyelids grow heavy again, closing just in time to feel the phone shake in his hand.

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Just wanted to check if you still had my number.  
Since we both wanted to start talking again.**

**_Of course I did._ **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Liar.**

**_LOL ok ok. I have it now, though._ ** ****__  
**_And I did recognize it._ ** **_  
_ ** ******_That counts, right?_**

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Anything you say, B.**

**_Great. Now I feel guilty._ **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **No need. Just giving you shit.**

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **I’m going to let you go for now, though.**

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **I’m glad we’re friends again.**

**_Me too! G’night._ **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Night, Killer.**

Blaine slips his phone back on his nightstand and smiles. In a month, he’ll be going to visit Kurt in New York, and they’ll get a taste of what life will be like when they’re together in a year. And, to top the day off, he’s got an old friend back.

Maybe his senior year won’t be so bad, after all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies that this is a week late. Took a lot longer in beta than expected, and it's a longer chapter than the first. It works out though because the past two weeks of work have been hell, and this week I've been out of town at a work conference, and haven't been able to get any writing done. Luckily next week, life gets back to normal. Meaning ALL THE SEBLAINE.
> 
> Many thanks to my lovely betas, Anis and Shadow!!

**October 5th 2012  
** **McKinley High**

Blaine’s annoyed, and that doesn’t happen very often. Or at least, it never used to happen, not until his transfer to McKinley.

In his effort to fill his time with Kurt in New York, he’s been signing up for as many after school extracurricular activities as possible, all of the clubs that appeal to him, and more importantly, the chance to run for senior class president. The fact that Brittany is the only other contender shows just how uninspired the majority of McKinley students are to make any kind of difference following the horrible example Brittany set the year before, and Blaine thinks he can fix that. Besides, he has no intention of allowing Brittany to ruin his senior prom the way she had ruined last year’s prom with her hair gel ban.

Incorrectly, Blaine had assumed that others in New Directions would have supported his decision to run. They’d mocked him instead when he’d pointed out that the class president role isn’t a popularity contest, hinting he’s upset just because he isn’t popular. Artie’d been the one to say it, and the others had laughed, and the comment hurt. Once again, Blaine finds himself reminded how alone he really is at McKinley, though in this instance, he’s not entirely certain that Kurt being there would have changed much. Even last year, after he had transferred and the other students seemed incapable of accepting him---Finn constantly telling him to sit down and keep quiet, some of the girls using his presence as an excuse to leave New Directions and the join the Troubletones---not once had Kurt ever stuck up for him. Blaine hadn’t held it against him, he’s always preferred fighting his own battles, but as his boyfriend, Blaine thinks it might’ve been nice to have heard Kurt take his side once or twice.

So yeah, Blaine’s a little annoyed at the moment, replaying Artie’s sour grape comment in his mind as he pushes through students still lingering in the hallways after their extracurriculars. It’s not as if he’s had an all-consuming desire to become involved in the high school political arena, and he certainly has never had his sights on being popular. While it had felt nice those first couple of weeks into the school year when glee club was still being celebrated for their Nationals win, being popular has never been important to Blaine as it might be to others. It had happened by chance at Dalton simply because the academy had been a different environment, and anyone who carried the title of Warbler automatically earned a place among the school’s elite.

McKinley’s different, and Blaine knows that, knows by watching the ins and outs of the popular kids who had been in glee the previous year that popularity is a risky venture at best. One day you are, the next you aren’t. It’s as simple as that. But while Blaine has no interest in popularity, he does want to make a difference, to do something that matters. Even if whatever it is just matters to one person, at least he knows he will have done something worthwhile and left his mark. It’s what he’s always wanted, why he’s always striving to make others happy in the best ways possible. Unfortunately it seems every time he tries to be that person at McKinley, Blaine feels like the rug’s pulled out from beneath him. Sometimes, he just doesn’t feel like himself anymore.

When he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, Blaine doesn’t even bother to check who is calling as he answers. “What?” He snaps uncharacteristically.

“ _Whoa. Sounds like you’re having a bad day, Killer_.”

Pulling his phone away to glance at Sebastian’s name, Blaine huffs with a grin before replacing it to his ear. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to answer like that. Just---yeah, not the best day.”

“ _Anything you want to talk about?"_

“Not necessarily.” Blaine stops at his locker, balancing his phone on his shoulder as he enters the lock combination. “Why’re you calling?”

“ _Do I need a reason?"_

Blaine thinks for only a moment as he opens his messenger bag and begins to swap out the books he doesn’t need for homework that evening. “Yeah.”

“ _I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t call Blaine Anderson without a reason._ ”

“Sorry, just---”

“--- _A bad day. I get it. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?_ ”

Does he? The thought of getting into how uncomfortable he’s beginning to feel in his own skin, while standing in the middle of the school hallway, isn’t a pleasant one. He sighs. “Long story short---I’ve decided to run for class president, but I’ve got the feeling I’m the only one who thinks I should.”

“ _What about Kurt?_ ”

“I haven’t told him yet,” Blaine says, eyes moving to the photos of Kurt hanging on the inside of his locker door. He knows Kurt will support him in this, especially after Kurt’s own loss against Brittany last year. “It’s, literally, everyone else.”

“ _Well, count me on your side, Killer. I think you’ll make an awesome president. People like you. You’re a natural leader._ ”

Blaine scoffs at that, shoving another book into his bag.

“ _Sounds like you’ve been away from your true brethren for far too long, Killer._ ”

Blaine can’t help but smile. “Why does this sound like the beginning of some bad teen movie about a cult?”

“ _I’m going to let the implication that you picture me as a cult leader slide because you’re cute and can hold a tune, and get to the actual reason I called. And yes, I do have a reason_.”

Blaine doesn’t bother protesting the accusation of his implication because, yes, he actually _can_ picture Sebastian Smythe as the leader of a cult. After all, he’d swayed the Warblers the previous year into following his lead rather easily, a group of boys accustomed to the tradition of being ruled by council versus captain. If anyone should be running for class president, it’s probably the boy on the other end of the line.

“ _The Warblers are having a little get-together tomorrow night, and wanted to invite you. Some kind of anniversary memorial thing for The Spirit of St. Louis tragedy, which frankly I find a little morbid, but then they have a bird cemetery too, so I shouldn’t be surprised by anything._ ”

“Hey, those birds are tradition.” Blaine laughs. “As is The Spirit of St. Louis memorial party. Are you bucking tradition, Sebastian?”

“ _Nooooo. I’m just looking for someone to keep me entertained while the others harmonize together on songs of woe._ ”

Blaine laughs again, missing the Warblers and everything to do with Dalton. The arguments over colored piping, singing and dancing through the hallways while the other students cheered them on, the comfort and safety of having somewhere he belonged.

“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve kind of thrown my hat into this race at the last second, and have a lot of catching up to do if I plan on winning. But thanks for asking.”

“ _You suck._ ”

Normally, Blaine might have responded to that with an ‘Only when asked nicely’, but this is Sebastian, and Blaine knows all too well that his friend _will_ ask nicely. “Sorry. Rain check?”

“ _For you, of course. Oh, and hey, if you need any pro-tips on campaigning, I’ve won a couple in my time_.”

“No, thanks. I’d prefer to win without resorting to blackmail,” Blaine responds, a hint of laughter in his tone.

 _“Low blow, Blaine. Low blow_ ,” Sebastian responds with a chuckle. “ _Maybe you have a chance of winning without my help, after all._ ”

“Very funny.” Flipping his science book open to search for the notes he’d slipped in between the pages earlier, Blaine glances at his watch, saying, “I’ve gotta head out. Talk to you later?”

“ _You betcha, Killer_.”

Realizing Sebastian somehow succeeded in completely distracting Blaine from what had occurred in the choir room earlier, Blaine smiles as he tucks his phone in his pocket and resumes looking for the missing notes.

“Blaine Warbler, I’d like to introduce you to Sam Evans.”

Looking up at Brittany’s voice to find the two blondes approaching him, Blaine is left staring dumbfounded for a moment at being introduced to someone he’s gone to school with for the last year. Refraining from being too sarcastic in his response, even though he’s still annoyed with Brittany from earlier, Blaine points out, “Umm, we’ve actually met several times.”

Brittany smiles at him. “He’s your candidate for vice president.”

More often than not, Blaine is fairly certain he’s inhaling some kind of mind-altering drugs when entering McKinley. It’s either drugs, or Brittany is standing there telling him who his vice president is going to be, a fellow glee club member he once had every intention of punching during an argument over the proper dance routine for Sectionals last year.

“Uh, no,” Blaine explains to both of them while Sam looks on hopefully. “I’m picking my own running mate.”

“My family’s on food stamps,” Sam begins, “so that’ll get you the sympathy vote. I’m not gay so that’ll help with the… not gay vote.”

Blaine blinks.

“And, you know, I don’t wanna brag but,” Sam continues, launching into a passable George Bush impersonation, “my impressions are hilarious one hundred percent of the time.”

Blaine continues to just stare at him, wondering to himself why he’s even considering this to begin with. The last thing he should be doing is taking advice from Brittany. For all he knows, she and Artie have some master plan to use Sam’s stripper past against them.

“George Bush, c’mon.” Sam sighs as if disappointed Blaine didn’t catch his brilliant impersonation.

“Okay.” Blaine gives in, hoping he won’t regret this. “Sure.”

“Awesome,” Brittany says with a triumphant smile as the two boys shake hands in agreement.

“First order of business,” she continues, invading Blaine’s space. “Artie and I challenge you and Sam to a debate.”

That’s the first good news he’s heard all day. “You’re on,” he agrees, finding himself looking forward to it.

That is until Sam leans in close as Brittany hurries off, whispering, “What’s a debate?”

***************************

“---And Isabelle is more incredible than I could’ve ever hoped! She loved the photos of my outfits, and I still can’t believe she hired me on the spot. Although, I did end up stabbing her with my Hippo broach, which could’ve been a really bad thing, but luckily it didn’t do any damage. I should try to remember not to hug people when I’m wearing it, maybe.”

“That’s amazing, Kurt! But I knew you’d get it. No one I’ve ever met has the incredible style you have. Vogue is lucky to have you.”

Blaine means it. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen Kurt this excited, this animated, positively glowing with the possibilities the future holds. And honestly, Blaine can’t stop staring. Not seeing Kurt regularly means when he does get the chance, Blaine just drinks in the sight of him–the flawless complexion, impossible to describe eyes, lips that Blaine misses kissing beyond imagination. Lips that he misses the feel of moving over his skin and—

Okay. He needs to stop there before he has to excuse himself for a few minutes. The last time he and Kurt had attempted a Skype sex session, Rachel had interrupted, just breezing into Kurt’s room. Luckily it had happened before they’d really started anything. As there are little more than curtains and some empty space between their rooms in the loft, there apparently isn’t much in the way of privacy. Blaine tries not to think of what that will mean in three weeks when he goes to New York for the weekend. He hopes Rachel has ear plugs.

“So how’re things at McKinley?” Kurt asks, the picture on the screen wobbling suddenly as he shifts on the bed to flop down on his stomach facing the camera.

Blaine can’t help but smile at the image as blue eyes and a slightly-turned up nose come into closer focus on his screen. “Well, I’ve been looking forward to telling you---”

“Oh! I completely forgot about the Couture Vault! You have to hear about the Vault!”

Laughing at Kurt’s excitement, Blaine holds onto the news about his last-minute decision to run for class president as his boyfriend tells him all about the room filled with couture and the hour that Isabelle allowed him to spend sorting through the clothing on the racks. There’d apparently been more than a few pieces he’s still trying to figure out whether they’d really miss or not if he were to sneak them out of there. Before Blaine can respond, Kurt declares the plot would probably be the quickest way to end an internship, and maybe he should wait until his last day to become a criminal.

“Sorry, I interrupted, didn’t I?” Kurt disappears from the screen briefly before popping back on with a blue bottle of Tynant water. Blaine’s amused at the sight, wondering if moving to New York automatically means drinking extremely expensive water.

“It’s okay.” Blaine waves off the apology. “I was just going to say that I’ve decided to run for class president.”

“Oh, wow! I never knew you had an interest in politics.”

Blaine shrugs and scoots back closer to the headboard, resettling the laptop over his thighs. “I wouldn’t mind making an impact during my last year at McKinley if I can, and besides, I’d rather not allow Brittany to ruin my prom.”

Kurt laughs. “You’re still really angry about the hair gel, aren’t you?”

Honestly, Blaine still doesn’t find the memory all that funny. Sure, Kurt had forced him to face the embarrassment of his hair, but the feelings of trauma still lingered. Prom this year won’t include Kurt---Blaine could never ask him to fly back to Ohio just to attend a high school dance---so Blaine wants to be certain he can at least try to enjoy the evening sans a date.

“Who else is running?"

“Just Brittany. Well, and Artie as her running mate. Sam is apparently going to be mine.”

Kurt stares into the camera for a moment, his expression clearly perplexed. “Running mates? Since when?”

“I don’t know.” Blaine shrugs, eyes rolling slightly at the memory of Brittany’s announcement in the choir room. “It’s to get more votes, I guess. Whoever’s more popular.”

“Well, the only advice I can give you is to prepare yourself if she breaks out Beyonce. Have a Katy Perry showstopper in your back pocket, just in case.”

“Or better yet, maybe I should prepare something by RiRi.”

“Ooooh. Good call! Maybe _Shut Up and Drive_ , or _Run This Town_?”

“Or _S &M _,” Blaine adds with a wink.

Kurt starts laughing. “Oh my God! Coach Sylvester’s head would explode. Can you imagine?”

The conversation ends up turning back to Vogue, what outfits Kurt should wear for the rest of the week---he has to keep making an impression---and the fact that he has to cancel their Skype date the following night. Blaine tries not to show his disappointment as Kurt describes Callbacks, a Karaoke bar where all of the NYADA students hang out. The last thing Blaine wants to do is guilt Kurt into staying home just so they can Skype, when Blaine knows for a fact he would be just as eager to go to such a place. He just wishes he could go with Kurt tomorrow.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

Kurt promises to do so before saying he needs his beauty sleep and should probably call it a night. They talk a few minutes longer, say their ‘I love you’s’ and wish each other a goodnight. Blaine stares at the blank screen for a moment after Kurt’s gone before shutting Skype down, and picking up the book he has to read for English, _Strait is the Gate_ by Andre Gide. It’s a fairly depressing book, and Blaine’s having a little trouble getting through it, which isn’t normally the case when it comes to reading. He’s having trouble understanding Alissa’s religious fervor, and her refusal to allow herself to love Jerome, even though they had loved one another since they were children.

Why would anyone reject love?  
 

***************************

  
The next morning in the hallway, Blaine makes plans with Sam to meet up in the costume shop during 5th period to devise a new look for his running mate. It’s not that he has anything particularly against flannel and t-shirts---other than the fact that all flannel should be burned and t-shirts should only be worn to bed---it’s just that honestly, he really doesn’t want people to think Sam’s running with him just for the straight vote. Although, Blaine also isn’t about to knock the assistance with the straight vote if he plans on winning this election. He can count the number of gay kids at McKinley on his fingers, and only about half of them are actually out and proud. A significantly higher ratio than a year ago, but there was still quite a way to go, and that handful wasn’t going to help him win.

“Hey, Blaine! Wait up.”

Blaine turns at the sound of his name, flashing a smile as Marley slips through a crowd of students to join him. He likes Marley, a lot. In Blaine’s opinion, she's the easiest to understand and relate to of anyone currently in New Directions. He can’t imagine her ever viciously competing for solos, hurting another for her own gain, or even putting her own desires above that of the glee club. There’s something almost too sweet and pure about her, as if at any moment cute little woodland forest creatures were going to begin surrounding her, singing.

Then again, the dynamic of New Directions has changed on the whole this year. It’s like a roller coaster, going from the Warblers, to New Directions last year, to this entirely different group this year. He feels like he gets his bearings one minute, and then ride turns upside down. And he’s still not quite certain where he fits into it all.

“So, I was wondering if maybe you wanted any help with your campaign?” She asks, smiling as she catches up to him. “Like with making signs or something? If you do, I’d be more than happy to pitch in.”

Brow furrowing at the offer, Blaine has to ask, “Why?” He clarifies when she looks slightly disappointed, “What I mean is, last year when people started choosing sides among the glee candidates, it got kind of messy.”

She pauses before answering, sucking her lower lip in between her teeth for a moment, “Well, you looked kind of upset the other day, with Brittany asking if anyone had proof of you being born in the states and stuff. I didn’t think it was fair, what Artie said, and I don’t know, I just really want to see you win---but don’t tell Brittany that, okay? That way we don’t have to hurt her feelings.”

Blaine smiles at her request to spare Brittany’s feelings, and can’t help but appreciate that she had taken notice of his reaction in the choir room. _It’s always the quiet ones_ , he thinks, _who take notice of the world around them._

“That’s really sweet of you, Marley. Thanks.”

He hesitates on accepting her help. He doesn’t want something like that to cause more problems in the choir room if Brittany does find out, and besides, it’s not as if he doesn’t have plenty of time on his hands. Even with all of the clubs Blaine now attends after school, homework, vocal practice, boxing on those mornings when he just needs to get his frustration out, there are still those lonely hours in the evening to fill, when he should be cuddling on the couch watching reality TV with Kurt.

“I think I’ve got a handle on it, though.” Blaine gives her a grateful smile, noting the crestfallen expression on her face, and quickly attending, “You know what would be helpful? To see a friendly face out in the audience during the debate. I know it helped Kurt for me to be out there last year, giving him a smile of encouragement during his speech. Just knowing someone’s out there who supports me---”

“Consider it done.” Marley beams a bright smile at him, hugging her notebook close to her chest. “Besides, maybe my senior year I’ll want to run, and it’d be good to see what I’m in for. Anyway, I’d better get to class---see you in glee!”

For all that he’s doing his best to fill his time with Kurt gone, to make McKinley feel a little more like somewhere he belongs, the choir room is the one place where everything still feels a little off. The only time Blaine truly feels comfortable in there is when he’s singing, and he knows he can’t take every opportunity to jump up and be the first to grab a solo, knows Tina had been looking forward to shining this year, knows Brittany is struggling just as much as he is to fill the hole that Santana left when she headed of to the University of Kentucky. He’s not certain how to fix it because choir had been the hour of the day he had always most looked forward to, sitting next to Kurt, singing together, singing to one another, and he can’t not walk into the room without his gaze immediately searching out Kurt’s usual chair.

Blaine wants to be comfortable there, wants to call this fledgling group of New Directions members his friends, wants to believe he can help them win another Nationals trophy. The problem is that his heart just isn’t in it.

His heart’s in New York. 

***************************

 Blaine peers around the threshold of the door into his father’s office, a tiny room that might’ve once been meant as a sunroom, but was now painted in forest green with an enormous desk shoved up against the wall, and stacks of books and papers scattered about. There’s a whiteboard near the door, covered in equations and the occasional sticky note with messages like _Remember to pick up dry cleaning Thursday_ and _Pick up Pam 3:25pm Sun. Terminal 1_. When Blaine was little he used to sneak into the cramped office, crawl under his dad’s desk and look through his picture books. He liked listening to the elder Anderson as he graded papers and complained about his students at Ohio Northern University.

“Hey, Dad. You busy?”

Christian Anderson is almost the spitting image of what Blaine imagines his older brother, Cooper, will look like one day. Tall, handsome, piercing blue eyes and chiseled jaw. The glasses he wears keep him from appearing too good-looking, though according to his mother’s stories, his father still has to deal with his fair share of students with crushes. It’s an uncomfortable thought, the idea that girls (and possibly some guys) just a couple of years older than him were sighing wistfully over his father. Gross, actually.

When Blaine was younger, he used to be positively certain he was adopted because everyone in his family was tall, sharp-cheeked and model-beautiful. Now that he’s older, Blaine realizes he looks more like his uncle on his mom’s side than either of his own parents. It’s weird, and still makes him wonder if he wasn’t switched at birth, but it’s not too bad because their similarity has made him his uncle’s favorite, and a holiday doesn’t pass by without a gift card to Brooks Brothers.

“Just grading some tests. What’s up?”

Blaine moves over to the desk where papers are scattered and holds out a thumb drive. “I was wondering, if you had a free moment sometime, maybe you could look over the first draft of my speech for Thursday? I just want to make certain I’m providing a vision, and not spending too much time focusing on the lack of progress that was made by my opponent last year.”

“I can do that.” His father takes the thumb drive and sets it down near the computer screen, and Blaine can’t help but wonder how long it will take before it gets lost in the sea of papers. “Just got another hour or so of grading, and then I’ll look it over for you. You’re really serious about this election, aren’t you?"

Shrugging at the question, Blaine avoids his father’s gaze as he reads a couple of the questions on the test, something to do with civil engineering. He’s more than grateful his parents have never tried to encourage him toward anything other than his passion of performing.

“I have a lot of free time on my hands this year. Figured I might as well try to do something good with it. Maybe make an impact at McKinley.”

“Won’t look so bad on those college applications, either.”

“That, too.” Blaine flashes a smile of agreement at his father when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. The constant pulse tells him it’s a call and not a text, and he backs toward the door. “Anyway, I’ll be back down later to see if you’ve had time to read it over. Thanks, Dad!”

Pulling out his phone as he crosses through the living room, Blaine grins at the name on the screen before holding it up to his ear. “I thought you had some big Warbler party tonight.”

“ _Where do you think I am, Killer?_ ”

There’s singing in the background, slightly off-key, drunken singing if Blaine knows the sound, and he can hear Sebastian huff with a slight tone of annoyance.

“ _You’re missing a hell of a party_ .” A beat. “ _Actually, that’s a lie. My boredom is real_.”

Laughing as he makes his way up the stairs and down the hall toward his bedroom, Blaine says, “Well, it sounds like everyone else is having fun.”

“ _Don’t let them fool you. I was already forced not once, but_ **_twice_ ** _, to talk them out of going cow tipping. And we know that would’ve ended in a trip to the ER._ ”

“They teepeed the Headmaster’s house once when I was there,” Blaine recalls, grinning at the memory as he flops back on his bed, pens and crayons from his earlier sign making rolling toward him. “Wes wasn’t there, or it never would have happened. He lectured all us on the proper decorum of a true Warbler the following day.”

“ _You Ohio boys sure know how to live it up---No, John, none of us want to see you streak!_ ”

Snorting out a laugh, Blaine quickly covers a hand over his mouth as he listens to Sebastian try to talk the other Warbler down from stripping. Suddenly there seems to be a scuffle, the noise of hands against the phone, and Sebastian yelling something like “ _Give me that back!_ ”

“ _Hey, Blaine! It’s Nick! Umm, Nick Duval._ ”

“I know who you are, Nick,” Blaine replies with barely contained laughter.

“ _Oh. Well, cool. I didn’t know if after what happened last year you’d---_ ”

“ _Oh my God! Don’t bring that up, idiot!_ ”

“ _Ow! Don’t call me an idiot---_ ”

“ _Hey, Blaine. It’s Trent. My apologies for Nick’s behavior_.”

“No worries.”

“ _Anyway, the guys and I wanted to say how we think it’s really great that you’re running for class president, and if you need any kind of help with like, sign making or contributions or whatever, we’re here for you!_ ”

“That’s really sweet, Trent,” Blaine says, grinning. “I think I’m good. But I’ll keep it in mind.”

“ _Awesome! Good luck, and uh, here’s Sebastian. Bye, Blaine. Oh! We miss you---_ ”

There’s a brief pause before Sebastian’s voice returns, and the background noise is significantly less obtrusive as he hears a door close. “ _As my friend, tell me you would be willing to help me bury the bodies?_ ”

Blaine laughs at the exasperation in his friend’s voice. “That’s a lot of grave digging, Sebastian. You’d seriously owe me after that.”

 _“I make good on my debts_.”

Lips pursing slightly, Blaine finds himself saying, “You’d make a really awesome Sky Masterson.”

Silence. Then, “ _Where in the hell did that come from?_ ”

“Sorry.” Blaine laughs. “Artie’s been obsessed with directing _Guys and Dolls_ recently, and I don’t know, it just hit me you’d be a great Sky.”

“ _Only if it’s opposite your Nathan_.”

“See? I keep telling him I’d make a great Nathan.” Reaching for one of the pens near his hip, Blaine brings it up to his mouth to chew on the cap. He can’t help but wonder what it might have been like attending school with Sebastian, performing in choir together, acting opposite one another in plays.

As if reading his mind, Sebastian remarks, “ _We’ve never really sang together. I consider that a travesty of epic proportions._ ”

Blaine smiles, realizing he’d never actually considered that they’ve haven’t sang together. He can’t help but think that they’d sound amazing. Sebastian is incredibly talented, and Blaine can only think it’s his attitude that’s held him back performance-wise. Should he ever put the amount of focus into his talent as opposed to finding ways to cheat, he’d be near unbeatable. But Blaine isn’t going to bring up the past again.

“Maybe we should hit a karaoke bar sometime,” Blaine suggests, only half-teasing.

 _“I’m game if you are, Killer. We’ll have to make plans_.”

“Deal.” Blaine glances at the clock, realizing he needs to finish up his posters if he’s going to get any of his reading for English in that night. “I should probably go. I’ve got an election to try to win.”

 _“You will. I’ve got faith in you. That public school of yours won’t know what hit ‘em._ ”

There’s something in Sebastian’s voice when he says it, a surety that Blaine’s had trouble feeling for himself. He tries not to take it too seriously, after all, this is Sebastian, and Blaine still considers at least half of what he says as just another bid to try to get into his pants.

While the Warbler hasn’t crossed any of the lines he repeatedly stepped on their junior year, hasn’t been as direct in his pursuit, Blaine has trouble believing he’s spending this much time texting and calling and offering encouragement just because they’re friends. It might be a far more subtle approach, and certainly one that Blaine can appreciate, but his wariness lingers. He’s just not certain he can ever trust Sebastian to not have some nefarious purpose ultimately in mind. Blaine _wants_ to trust him, particularly since his apology at the Lima Bean after Dave Karofsky’s suicide attempt had seemed so sincere. He wants to believe Sebastian when he says he’s changed, but the Warblers and New Directions are still rival show choirs, and will be going back up against one another at Sectionals. And then there’s the fact that Blaine has trouble forgetting how things began between him and Sebastian. The heated looks, as if the Warbler was undressing him constantly with his eyes, the suggestion that he and Blaine should hook up, even though Blaine was in love with someone else. How dismissive of Kurt Sebastian had been.

Blaine takes some of the blame for himself. He should have been honest immediately that first time they sat down together at Dalton, told the boy across the table from him that he had a boyfriend and he was in love and Kurt was the greatest thing to ever happen to him. But he hadn’t, and Blaine’s still not entirely sure why he had remained silent about that until pushed. Just as he never could honestly answer the question as to why he never really talked to Kurt about Sebastian, and their growing friendship.

And sometimes, in the back of his mind, Blaine wonders if he’s not the one with the nefarious purpose. If maybe he’s a lot more like Alissa in _Strait is the Gate_ than he wants to believe.

  
***************************

  
His speech is ready, given the formal approval by his father who made a quick comment that maybe Blaine’s true calling was in politics, gave an awkward laugh, and an equally awkward pat on the shoulder before handing Blaine’s thumb drive back to him. Blaine knows all too well that his father doesn’t have the greatest opinion about careers in the arts after watching Cooper struggle for years, and get little more than a series of commercials and a part in Transformers 4 that ultimately ended up on the cutting room floor. And Blaine gets that his father wants more for him than that---it’s taken a while but he finally gets it---but the problem is, Blaine just wants to do what he loves. He wants to sing, he wants to perform, he wants to see the smiles and delight on people’s faces when he makes them feel something through song and dance and a well-timed line. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do; it’s the only thing he’s ever felt one hundred percent confident about.

Confidence is what he’s struggling to find when it comes to the debate, and the voting to follow. Blaine’s feeling a little better about Sam, thinks he looks like a viable running mate, and is as prepared as he can be for the debate. Honestly, he’s far more worried about himself. If he could stand up there and sing about his platform, it might be easier. Actually, it’d be a lot easier. People listen when he sings.

Pushing his nervousness about tomorrow from his mind, Blaine focuses on the video of Rachel as Kurt hits play. There’s a tasteful and fun mashup of _You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile/The Way You Look Tonight_ playing in the background as Rachel models combination after combination of couture from the Vogue Vault, adding her own flair of drama to each of the scenes, which Kurt has colored with appropriate filters. Blaine can’t help but smile as he watches, seeing Kurt’s creativity come alive on the screen, missing Rachel’s unique spark when she flashes a smile at the camera. He wishes he were there with them, right then, living their dreams together in New York instead of sitting on the floor in his bedroom, unable to even reach out and hold his boyfriend’s hand.

“And that was just the rough cut,” Kurt explains as the video ends, the screen wobbling as he stands and carries across the loft.

“No, it’s genius,” Blaine hastily assures.”And Rachel looks so gorgeous. The whole thing looks so like, professional and like, a real fashion video that you’d see on TV or something.” Blaine thinks he can live forever on the small laugh Kurt gives him with his words. “So what’s the next step?”

“Well, uh, ideally the dream would be that Isabelle would see it, and love it, and then put it on Vogue.com.” Kurt shrugs. “But I mean, she's already committed to so many other concepts that---”

“No, Kurt, of course she's going to choose yours.” Blaine is more than confident of the outcome, and doesn’t want Kurt worrying when he knows it’s a sure thing. “She's going to pick yours.”

Kurt smiles brightly, glass of water in hand, the screen moving again as he crosses the loft back to his room. “And then, after we made over Rachel, Isabelle took us to this place called Gray's Papaya and we had guava juice and hot dogs!”

Blaine can’t fathom how guava juice and hot dogs could possibly be good together, and says the only thing he can think to say, “Wow.”

“It was amazing.” Kurt seems so certain of this that Blaine knows he’ll be trying the combo one day.

Sensing a perfect opportunity to shift the conversation, Blaine can’t help but wonder aloud at the strange paths their lives have taken. “You're hanging out with fashion goddess Isabelle Wright. And I'm running for Student Body President… with a former stripper.”

“Oh my gosh! I forgot about that! How's it going?”

Blaine lets Kurt’s comment that he’d forgotten about Blaine running for president pass. After all, Kurt has a lot more important things going on in his life than a high school presidential election. There are far more exciting things going on in New York than at McKinley High School or Lima, Ohio. So he focuses on the thing he knows his boyfriend does care about---fashion.

“It's going okay,” he says, reaching back toward the pile of accessories he had gathered together earlier that evening in an attempt to put together the perfect debate outfit.  “But, um, I did want to ask you what bow tie you thought I should wear for tomorrow's debate. I have narrowed it down to five, but mainly I have---”

“Bow ties are your signature,” Kurt interrupts quickly, waving a hand.  “Whatever you choose is going to look great on you---”

“Hi, Blaine, we miss you!” Rachel voices calls out from somewhere in the loft.

“Rachel says hi.”

“Oh, hi, Rachel,” Blaine replies, about to ask how she’s doing, the ties still clutched between his hands, when Kurt diverts back to the previous conversation.

“By the way, one more question about the video. That scene where she plays the East Village It Girl-- did you think that was too much?”

Blaine feels his shoulders deflate at the realization of how little Kurt cares about the election, about his big debate tomorrow, about the fact that his boyfriend is still in high school, and everything Kurt is doing is far more interesting.

“No, it's---” Blaine finds himself thinking that maybe Kurt doesn’t really care for his opinion, quietly adding, “I don't know.”

“Oh, good, good,” Kurt continues, as if not even hearing him. “Cause I didn't either, but she was a little skeptical. But I said she was very Chloe Sevigny chic, right?”

For a moment, Blaine wonders if Kurt would notice if his hair was on fire, or aliens appeared out of nowhere to abduct him. “Yeah,” he replies quietly, automatically doing what he can to assure Kurt.  “Yeah.”  
  
“And then, oh my God, I found this sweater in the vault that was to die for!”

It hurts. He can’t pretend it doesn’t. But Blaine mentally tries to shake that hurt away as Kurt continues, obviously excited about everything going on in his life. Blaine’s excited too, he _is_ , he’s so happy for Kurt and how everything seems to be happening for him the way things should. But deep down, he wants Kurt to be excited for him too, to show him that he’s still interested in Blaine’s life, even though they’re hundreds of miles apart. It’s a selfish desire, he knows, and if he were to say it out loud, Kurt would tell him that. Tell him that he isn’t trying to be dismissive, he’s just hoping Blaine would be excited that it seems like so many of Kurt’s dreams are finally coming true.

But if Kurt doesn’t care about what is going on in Blaine’s life now, who’s to say he’ll care about anything to do with Blaine a couple of months down the road?

  
***************************

  
In a few minutes, Blaine needs to head to the auditorium to begin preparing for the debate. He’s not necessarily nervous---he’s been standing onstage in front of audiences for as long as he can remember. He can sing and dance and act and wear ridiculous costumes, make audiences feel through laughter and smiles and tears. Blaine’s always been a master of performing for audiences. It’s just that he’s not particularly comfortable at being _Blaine_ in front of an audience.

When he had confessed as much to Sam, his running mate had assured him that he could just be someone else up there. “If you’re more comfortable performing, pretend you’re Obama or something,” Sam had told him before launching into a fairly good impression of the president. And as much as Blaine wants to believe that’s the solution to his concern, he knows it just won’t work. In this case, he has to be Blaine. To be anyone else would be misleading, and ruin the entire point of running for the position in the first place. He’s already made over Sam to be someone other than he is, and has witnessed Artie doing the same for Brittany. If Blaine wants to win this, he needs to be himself. He needs to give the student body a reason to believe in and trust him.

He’s just not entirely certain he’s capable of that. He even, for a hot second, really considered singing for the debate, but both Sam, and his mother, had quickly shot down the idea.

Before reaching the auditorium, Blaine slips his phone out of his pocket, smiling at the photo of Kurt on his contact information before hitting the call button. It’s a selfish wish to want his boyfriend there, just to get him through the day, but Blaine finds himself wishing it anyway. For now, the simple sound of Kurt’s voice immediately feels like a balm washing over him.

Unfortunately, the words aren’t really what Blaine wants to hear.

 _“Hey! Sorry but I don’t really have time to talk right now. Isabelle has a big meeting in a few minutes and I need to get these photos over to her._ ”

“Oh.” Blaine takes a breath, wants to at least mention that he’s about to go up against Brittany in the debate, but Kurt sounds frantic and far too distracted for Blaine to wish to add to it. “Okay, well, umm, I’ll text you later, then?”

“ _Yeah. Perfect. I’m really sorry, Blaine. We’ll talk tonight---I promise. Bye---_.”

“Bye,” he says softly, even though the line is already dead.

Blaine tries not get upset. He knows how important this internship is to Kurt. It’s Vogue, for crying out loud. Blaine couldn’t be prouder of him for being there. But for Blaine, the election is important. Last year, Kurt had put his whole heart into the student body presidential election, and Blaine had supported him the whole way through. He just wishes Kurt would support his endeavor as well. He might not be there to help with posters and listen as Blaine practices his speech, but all he’s looking for is some small word of encouragement. Something to prove that Kurt still gives a damn about what’s happening in Blaine’s life.

Staring down at his phone, Blaine quickly swipes back to his contacts and types a short text.

**_Wish me luck?_ **

The reply comes through almost immediately, and Blaine smiles.

 **[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Good luck, Killer!**

   
***************************

  
There’s a depressingly low amount of students making their way in and out of the voting booths. Blaine wonders if it’s due to the fact, as Coach Sylvester had pointed out before the debate, that only glee kids are running? Or more to the point that neither he or Brittany are all that popular. Maybe both.

Still, he tries to remain optimistic about it. After all, who cares how many vote as long as they do? And as long as Blaine wins and gets the chance to make a real difference at McKinley.

After checking his name off with Mrs. Wilson, the faculty advisor to the student council, Blaine slips into the voting booth, closing the curtain behind him and staring down at the slip of paper he was given. His and Sam’s names are listed first, with a simple check box beside them. Picking up the pen, he moves to make a check mark in the box before suddenly pausing.

Last year, the race for student body president had been a heated one, and Kurt had been driven by a need to win in order to make a difference, and to have it listed on his college application. Rachel had thrown her name into the pool for the same reasoning, both with their hopes pinned on getting into NYADA. Unfortunately, the race hadn’t turned out as expected once Rachel made the decision to cheat on Kurt’s behalf.

Blaine doesn’t desperately need to win this race, and he knows that. He’s got the third highest GPA in the class, coming in just behind Artie and Tina, has a list of performance extracurriculars two-pages long going back to middle school, last year’s Nationals win, and what he knows is a rather uncanny habit of typically having things handed to him rather easily. He knows he doesn’t need to be student body president to get into college. His desires are selfish---to have something else to occupy his time with Kurt gone, and to not have prom ruined again.

But the thing is, Blaine knows Brittany is going through the same feeling of loneliness with Santana in Kentucky. Worse still, all of her closest friends graduated last year, leaving her behind. And while she has pulled herself out of the slump she’d fallen into a couple of weeks ago, Blaine has no doubt she is putting up as much of a front as he has been.

Every vote counts. Particularly when it appears as if only a handful of students seem interested in voting. Blaine considers what Kurt might do in his situation. Kurt had really wanted to win, to make a difference, and ultimately this could be a victory for the both of them. Maybe, if Blaine were to win, Kurt would take more interest in his victory, want to help Blaine make that difference, share ideas for the presidential position had he won.

The pen hovers over the checkbox next to his name.

But aren’t friends more important than winning? Isn’t Brittany’s pain just as real as his own?

Besides, Blaine can’t help but think that voting for yourself is just short of cheating. He makes a quick ‘X’ in the box beside Brittany’s name and slips the paper in with the other votes before he can change his mind.  
  


***************************

  
**_Hey baby! I know you’re probably busy_  
** **_but just wanted to tell you I won! I’m  
_** **_McKinley’s new student body president!_**

Blaine hits send, knowing that Kurt is probably busy, but that he might get a chance to read his text in between running errands for Isabelle. He hopes that maybe Kurt will find time to call him during a break, but for the moment he tries not to worry about it, still riding his high over winning.

There had only been one downside to hearing Coach Sylvester make the announcement over the loudspeaker, and that was being in class with Brittany and Artie to hear it. He had to witness the disappointment in both of their expressions, and even though Artie’s had appeared to be more resignation than upset, it had still helped to diminish Blaine’s own excitement. Those are his friends, after all, and Blaine has never been able to take pleasure in seeing the people he cares about hurting, whether for his own benefit or not.

Not to mention, Coach Sylvester’s announcement had gone something like: “Everyone’s third favorite Muppet, Blaine Anderson.”

And while he knows he should never take anything that comes out of Sue Sylvester’s mouth seriously, Blaine had been looking forward to hearing himself announced as student body president without one of her casual insults. He should have known better.

Glancing down at his phone with the hope that maybe looking at it enough will cause it to ring, Blaine stumbles slightly when arms suddenly wrap around his right arm, a loud pop of gum greeting him.

“Just the honey I was looking for!” Sugar exclaims, her bracelets chiming together as she moves her arms to give his a quick squeeze. “So I’ve been planning this whole victory party for Brittany and Artie---well, Artie mostly. But seeing as how you and Sam won, I thought we can just as easily change it to the both of you, and not let my daddy’s deposit on reserving the restaurant go to waste.”

“Sugar, that’s really sweet but---”

“Awesome! Seven o’clock tonight at Breadstix. The whole school’s invited, of course.” She steps in front of him, beaming as she pokes him in the chest. “And the cutest little button of a McKinley president ever had best show his face. _Capiche_?”

Blaine laughs softly, gaze dropping to the tile floor. “Yeah. Okay, Sugar. I’ll be there.”

“Great! See you, then!” Sugar whirls away, the scent of bubblegum and expensive perfume lingering in her wake.

The idea of a victory celebration works to rekindle Blaine’s own excitement over the victory. He wants to make positive change, get the student body active again, and maybe kicking it all off with a party is just the way to make that happen. In fact, now that he thinks about, having Sugar as a member of his administration might not be such a bad idea, either. She’s well-liked by everyone, carries around with her a surprising lack of drama, and has a positive and upbeat attitude that Blaine really enjoys. Sugar Motta is just the addition his fledgling administration needs.

Blaine’s attention drifts back to his phone as another twinge of disappointment moves through him at the lack of communication from Kurt. He very briefly considers calling him, but doesn’t want to interrupt whatever important work he might be doing. Instead, he types a short and simple text to Sebastian:  

**_I won!_ **

After all, the Warblers had been willing to assist with his campaign.

Stopping by his locker, Blaine switches out the books he needs for the weekend, glancing at _Strait is the Gate_ before shoving it into his messenger bag. The more he reads, the more depressing the book gets. He’s not entirely certain how he’s expected to write an essay on a topic he’s having so much trouble empathizing with. Alissa seems cruel to him; unwilling to choose Jerome over God, and yet, unable to let Jerome go free. And Jerome is a fool for continuing to hope that he might have a chance.

The thoughts are forgotten when Blaine feels his phone buzz with a text in his pocket. There’s a strange mixture of both disappointment, and comfort, when he sees who its from.

 **[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Congrats, Killer!! Knew you had it in you.** **  
** **There’s going to be a celebration, right?**

Smiling at the question, Blaine types out a reply, momentarily forgetting that it's not to the person he had been hoping to hear back from.  
  


***************************

   
_"It kind of feels like none of it matters_.”

Blaine’s own words continue to echo through his mind. While Sam’s insistence that the fact that they’ve become friends should be the important thing, that they’re showing to the school how gay guys and straight guys can be totally cool with one another, Blaine still feels the crushing weight of the realization that he only came to McKinley _for_ Kurt heavy in his chest. He still remembers the day he had given in because Kurt had said he wanted his senior year to be magic, and how could Blaine refuse such a request? He hadn’t wanted to leave Dalton, wishes he were still there more often than not, but he’s here now, and he supposes he needs to make the most of it.

Turning his attention back to the party around him, Blaine’s still a little shocked that Sugar felt it necessary to rent out all of Breadstix to celebrate the victory. Apparently she’d planned on doing so no matter who won, which is kind of nice because both sides ended up coming together. Though, why she chose to refer to Blaine and Sam as Blam on the victory sign, he’s not entirely certain.

Blaine grabs one of the blue drinks sitting on the counter and takes a sip, wincing slightly at the strong raspberry flavor. His fingers tap against the screen on his phone where it sits in his pocket, and he tries not to allow the disappointment to at Kurt’s silence to suck him in again. It looks like Sugar is trying to get everyone to karaoke with her but currently she doesn’t appear to have any takers. Blaine doesn’t feel much like singing, or he’d be the first one up there.

Glancing over his shoulder as he takes another sip of the blue raspberry soda, Blaine spies familiar blue blazers with red piping, and a smile breaks across his face as he sets the drink down and makes his way toward the restaurant’s entrance.

“Sebastian! Guys---hey!"

Blaine immediately gets swallowed up in a hug by Nick, and then passed off to Thad and John, Trent, Jeff and David, and they’re all talking at once, clapping him on the back, congratulating him. But it’s Sebastian that Blaine finds himself looking toward, desperately needing to hear from him that he’s proud of Blaine’s accomplishment. It’s pathetic, he knows, but Sebastian has always had a way of making Blaine feel special, and in that moment, there’s little else he wants more.

“Nice job, Killer,” Sebastian says with a grin, holding out his hand. “Or should I say, Mr. President?”

Blaine’s face warms at the gentle teasing, and takes the offered hand, only to find it’s not so much a handshake as it is a momentary light squeeze, warmth and strength and steadiness, and he feels himself breathing easily for the first time that night.

“Thanks, Sebastian. All of you,” Blaine pauses to look at the other Warblers gratefully, “thank you so much for coming. It means the world to me.”

“You may be in a rival choir, but you’re still our Warbler Blaine,” Trent tells him.

There are more hugs, and Blaine can’t help but feel as if maybe he’s gotten something back that he thought lost.

The Warblers quickly make themselves at home, grabbing cake and red or blue punch. If the New Directions are surprised to see some of the Warblers there, they refrain from saying anything. Luckily, only Sam, Tina and Artie know what happened last year, and Artie’s appears too wrapped up with Sugar, Sam is where Blaine left him in the booth with Brittany, and Tina seems to have disappeared completely. Blaine makes a note to catch up to her tomorrow; he’d really like to have her on the student council with him.

Watching the two groups start chatting,Jeff and Nick launching into a conversation with Marley and Unique, Blaine discovers a hint of suspicion washing over him as he wonders if they’ve only come to the party to spy on their competition. Deep down he knows ( _he hopes_ ) it’s not true, they were genuine in their joy at him winning, but the feelings of betrayal by friends still lingers like an itch just beneath his skin.

“They’re just being friendly.”

Blaine jumps slightly at the unexpectedness of Sebastian at his side, flushing at how easily it must have been to read his thoughts. “I’m not---it wasn’t---”

“Yeah, you were."

He smiles and bumps their shoulders together lightly, and Blaine feels that familiar swoop in his stomach whenever Sebastian is near. It’s nothing new. It’s been there since the day they met, and Blaine wonders if it’s just something about Sebastian, something everyone feels when near him, maybe something more than just his attractiveness. After all, it’s never sounded to Blaine as if the Warbler has ever had a problem with finding dates…. or however Sebastian might refer to his hookups.

“It’s alright, you know? We all get it. What happened last year---”

“---is in the past,” Blaine interrupts and smiles. “And that’s the end of it.” Blaine wants to put it behind him. Wants to stop being so suspicious, questioning the actions of people who are his friends.

“If you say so, Killer.”

Blaine rolls his eyes at the nickname, but smiles all the same as he turns his gaze back to the other Warblers.

Silence stretches between them for the next couple of minutes, but Blaine doesn’t feel the need to fill the void. Mostly, it just feels good to know that Sebastian and the others drove all of the way to Lima to congratulate him. To show that they were invested in a student election that had nothing to do with Dalton. To show they were still invested in _him_.

“Lots of celebrating going on.” Sebastian’s voice cuts through the silence between them, and then pauses, a heavy break intoning that there’s more to come. “By everyone but the new class president, it seems.”

“What?” Blaine blinks up at him and forces a smile. “What do you mean? I’m celebrating.”

Sebastian doesn’t respond, just returns Blaine’s stare, one eyebrow rising in question until Blaine can’t do more than look away, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Do you want to talk about it?"

“No.”

Another silence hangs between them briefly until Blaine feels his shoulders fall, and he nods quietly. “I mean, yes.”  
  


*********************

  
They end up sitting in Sebastian’s car, staring through the windshield at the party continuing inside of Breadstix. Sebastian had turned the radio on after they’d climbed in, and it helps with the quiet lingering between them as Blaine struggles with opening up. Talking to Sebastian used to be so easy, had _always_ been so easy in the oddest of ways, even in between the outrageous flirtation from him. But Blaine still has trouble fully trusting now, waiting for the moment everything he tells his friend ends up being used against him again. It’s unfair; Sebastian has been nothing but a good friend over the last several weeks, texting, talking, the occasional Skype chat. Blaine hates wondering if maybe his intentions aren’t entirely friendly, if maybe it’s all tied up in the fact that the Warblers and New Directions will face off against one another at Sectionals.

It’s a difficult fear to come to terms with. Blaine knows he’s a trusting person at heart. It doesn’t take much for him to begin caring for others, and sometimes he thinks he forgives to easily when that trust is destroyed. He doesn’t know why he’s so wary where Sebastian is concerned. Maybe because the other boy’s betrayal had blindsided him so completely. He still wants to ask about it, but he’s dealing with enough at the moment.

“You don’t have to talk, you know? We can just sit here and listen to music.”

Blaine appreciates the offer, fingers clutching the phone in his pocket that has continued to remain silent. He draws in a deep breath, gives a little shake of his head, and forces out, “I can’t get a hold of Kurt.”

Feeling Sebastian’s gaze on him, Blaine turns to meet it, seeing only confusion and curiosity in response to his words. He clarifies quietly, “I texted him earlier today when the announcement was made. I called and left a message later. I tried calling again a little while ago, but it went to voicemail. I even found myself lying to Artie about it. Told him Kurt was so excited he was planning an Inaugural Ball. How pathetic is that?”

Blaine continues to watch Sebastian silently, hoping his expression doesn’t convey the desperation he’s feeling when Sebastian doesn’t immediately respond to his confession. There’s a deep need within him for someone to tell him everything’s all right, and he’s just letting his fears get the best of him. Maybe he needs a new cell phone or something, as this one apparently just isn’t working properly.

Sebastian’s eyes dart away for a moment, and long fingers reach out to fiddle with the radio, scanning through stations as if he suddenly needs somewhere to focus his attention. Finally he says, “Maybe he’s busy?”

Feeling himself deflate at the response, Blaine immediately looks out the window, blinking furiously to combat the sudden sting of threatening tears. He’s _sick_ of hearing that Kurt is busy. Sick of hearing that Kurt is too busy for _him_ . Too busy to care about the things that are important to Blaine. He doesn’t think this is how relationships are supposed to be---shouldn’t Kurt care about this? New York or not, even with his exciting life at Vogue, Blaine thinks Kurt should still give a damn about what is going on in _his_ life.

“He didn’t even remember I was running,” Blaine admits softly. “Like, the other day, he actually said ‘I forgot about that’. He just… forgot that I was running for class president. Like, he was supposed to remember to take his coat to the cleaners or something.” Pausing, he adds a little bitterly, “Actually, he’d remember _that_.”

Beside him, he hears Sebastian sigh and shift in his seat. “I’m sorry… but I’m not certain what you want me to say, Blaine.”

For some reason his reply hurts, and Blaine swallows hard in response.

As if clarifying, Sebastian quickly adds, “I mean, Kurt and I have never actually seen eye to eye, Blaine. Whatever I choose to say runs the risk of potentially pissing you off.”

Blaine knows it well. Or at least, he’s always known Kurt hasn’t liked Sebastian from the moment they first met in the Lima Bean where Blaine and the Warbler had been talking over coffee. Blaine has always assumed that Sebastian’s dislike simply stemmed from the fact that Blaine and Kurt were dating, and he’d had no intention of giving into Sebastian’s repeated suggestions back then that they hook up. He has trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that someone simply might not like Kurt.

“Do you think maybe he’s found someone else?” Blaine hates how small his voice sounds.

Sebastian looks away at his question, jaw working as if he’s formulating the right words to say, and Blaine hates how long it takes before green eyes draw back to his own. “No, I don’t think he’s found someone else. If that’s the case, then he’s an even bigger idiot than I imagined.”

Wincing at hearing Sebastian refer to Kurt as an idiot, while at the same time feeling relief that his friend doesn’t think Kurt has moved on, Blaine can’t stop himself from asking, “Then what?”

“Blaine---”

“Please tell me.”

“ _Fine_. You wanna know what I think? I think Kurt’s just as self-centered in New York as he was here,” Sebastian responds, not looking at Blaine as he speaks. His jaw tightens as he continues, “The difference is, he doesn’t have his prop there beside him to show off, so he only bothers with you when you cross his mind.”

Blaine sucks in a sharp breath at the words, eyes wide as he stares over at Sebastian. For a moment, he can’t decide if he’s more shocked at the characterization of his relationship with Kurt, or the bitter tone that comes across with each word spoken. The shock fades quickly, replaced by growing anger, and a hint of fear that he tries desperately to ignore.

“You don’t know us. You don’t know Kurt,” he snaps, regretting ever starting this conversation. “You’re just---you’re _jealous_ ,” Blaine accuses, ignoring the bright-eyed glare Sebastian shoots in his direction. “Jealous because Kurt’s off in New York living his dream, and you can’t even win a singing competition without trying to cheat!”

Sebastian’s shoulders seem to drop with Blaine’s words, head turning to look out the driver’s window, silently ending the conversation.

Regret at the words he’d lashed out with fills Blaine almost immediately. “Sebastian, I---I’m sorry. It… that was uncalled for. I didn’t... “

Blaine trails off, not knowing what else he can possibly say. He’s angry that Sebastian felt it necessary to say what he had about Kurt, but he also knows that he shouldn’t have responded by bringing up the past. Sebastian doesn’t seem inclined to look at him, to finish the conversation, and Blaine decides it’s best to leave it there; talk again when he stops feeling so off balance due to Kurt’s silence.

Pushing open the passenger door, Blaine climbs out of the car, turning for a moment to peer back inside. “Thanks for coming tonight. It… it means a lot that you were here.”

When Sebastian doesn’t respond, Blaine closes the door, stands there uncertainly for a moment and finally heads back inside Breadstix.  
 

*********************

  
It’s well past midnight, and Blaine still hasn’t heard anything from Kurt. No _Sorry I was busy_ or _Congrats_ or anything. It continues to hurt, but doesn’t linger heavy in his mind the way his conversation with Sebastian does. He’s thought of reaching out to apologize multiple times, but his chest still aches at the other boy’s accusation that Kurt only sees him as a prop. The worst part is that Blaine can’t decide if it hurts because it’s not true, or hurts because something inside of him believes that it _could_ be true. Either way, he knows what he said to Sebastian had been unfair, and he hates that he had struck back in such a manner, that he can so easily resort to hurting someone just because _he’s_ hurting.

Rolling onto his side, arm folded beneath his head, Blaine stares at the wall and tries to think of the positives out of the day. He’s student class president, and he can make some real change, and it seems he’s found a friend in Sam that he’s never quite expected. Those are good things, even if the rest of the night hadn’t quite panned out as he’d hoped.

The light of the screen on his phone flashes briefly with a message, and Blaine snatches it up in the hope that it’s Kurt finally replying to him.

 **[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said  
** **that about you and Kurt.**

Blaine draws in a shaky breath at the sight of Sebastian’s text and smiles as relief floods through him that at least he hasn’t lost his friend again. He responds quickly, knowing that Sebastian had no need to apologize.

**_**No. It’s alright. I shouldn’t  
**_**_have talked to you about it._** **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **I don’t want you to feel like you have  
** **to censor yourself with me.**

 **[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **That’s not friendship.**

Staring at Sebastian’s words, Blaine can’t help but think how they ring true to him. And maybe that’s why he gravitated toward Sebastian’s friendship so easily the year before. Transferring to McKinley had been difficult, not the least because he had felt so isolated. Blaine had learned to be careful about everything he said, even to Kurt. In all honesty, he still censors his words to Kurt, always afraid of saying the wrong things or his words becoming misconstrued, particularly with so many miles now stretching between them. But Blaine has never felt the need to be someone other than himself with Sebastian.

 **[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Blaine?**

 _**You’re right. And you didn’t deserve** _  
_**what I said. I’m so sorry. I was angry.** _  
_**I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.** _  
_**Besides, you shouldn’t feel the need to** _  
_**censor yourself around me, either.** _

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Except in my case, I kind of have to.  
** **You really don’t want to hear my thoughts on Kurt.**

 **[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **You’d probably cut my heart out with a spoon.**

**_That precludes you actually have a heart._ **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **OUCH**

**_You walked into that one._ **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **You can be really catty when you  
** **want to, Blaine Anderson.**

**_Meow. Pffft._ **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Now all I’m picturing is that little kitten  
** **from the Aristocats with the bow tie.**

 **[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **What was his name? Toulouse? That’s totally you.**

**_This conversation was going so well._ **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Right up until the point you insulted me.**

**_Such delicate feelings. Who knew?_ **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **No one. So don’t let it get out.**

**_ROFL promise!_ **

**_Seriously, though, thanks. Thanks for being_ **  
**_honest with me. Thanks for coming to celebrate_ **  
**_with me tonight. Thanks for being my friend._ **

**[Sebastian Smythe]  
** **Anytime, Killer.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Chapter will be a lot more Seblaine, some Klaine, heavy on the angst. But that's what we're here for, right?? Also, it will probably be about two weeks between writing and beta, but hopefully I will then be back on track for weekly postings. <3


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